


Hold Me, Love Me

by platypusesrneat



Series: Steter Week 2017 [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Birthday Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Nipple Play, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 09:44:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12838548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platypusesrneat/pseuds/platypusesrneat
Summary: Day 3 of Steter Week: Smut





	Hold Me, Love Me

**Author's Note:**

> Bow chicka wow wow

Stiles wakes (half-wakes, really), to a sudden chill. Someone has taken his blankets. His personal wolfy space heater is gone, too, and this is just something Stiles won’t stand for.

“Don’ wanna get up,” Stiles whines. Whatever entity that is stealing his blankets from him laughs.

“Oh, I’m certain you want to be up for this.”

Huh? Is that–

He gasps when he feels a mouth kiss right beneath his navel, and lets out a startled moan when the mouth begins kissing up his stomach to his chest.

“P-Peter?”

He chuckles against Stiles’s skin, making him shiver.The man is entirely nude, remnants of his suit in a pile by the bed. Peter’s hot, like majorly hot, and the sight of his boyfriend’s naked body makes his cock throb.

“Happy birthday, my sweet boy.”

Peter continues kissing his way up Stiles’s body, stopping every few seconds to nibble on a mole or lick a crevice. Stiles can’t help but squirm, because the warm heat of tongue is going straight to his cock and feeding the delicious heat in his stomach. When Peter finally reaches his mouth, it’s to give him an absolutely filthy kiss that Stiles moans into.

“You didn’t…aaah, have to.” Didn’t have to stay home, with him, Stiles means. Peter is an important lawyer, he can’t just nope out of all of his business shit.

Peter seems to know what he means.

“Nonsense, darling. The firm can go without me for a day. You, however, cannot,” Peter purrs into his ear, and is that a gun in Peter’s pocket or is he just happy to see him?

Stiles is distracted by Peter pulling him into another kiss, this time using one arm to pull him up and into his lap. Stiles brings his hands up and peel his shirt off, grinning at the throaty growl Peter gives.

“You’re mine, baby,” he groans, leaning down to suck a mark into the pale skin at his collarbone. “Nobody else gets to see you like this. No one–” Peter bites his neck, pulling a gasp from Stiles. “–gets to utterly own you like I do. And you know that, don’t you sweetheart? That only _I_ can fulfill you like this.”

Stiles pants, just trying to not rut against Peter.

“Answer me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I want it,” Stiles babbles, suddenly not able to stop talking. “Want you to fill me up and take me, c'mon Peter, I want it so _ba-a-aaad_.”

Stiles is embarrassed when he feels actual tears on his face.

“Oh, poor little slut. You need to get fucked so bad that you’re leaking everywhere. Stand up for a moment, darling.”

Stiles obeys, his legs a little wobbly. Peter pulls off both his pajama pants and his boxers without any difficulty, and BAM! Stiles is naked too.

It took a while, at first, for Stiles to be comfortable with Peter seeing him like this. He’s thin, bony, and pale, and Stiles just couldn’t understand why someone as handsome as Peter could ever find him attractive. But Peter always assured him with whispered words that he is the most exquisite creature Peter has ever seen, and that there is no one he’d rather be with. Stiles would laugh these remarks off, but secretly those words made him relieved. For the first time, Stiles is actually wanted.

“Lay down on your back for me,” Peter murmurs, gently pushing him into the middle of the bed.

Once Stiles is situated, he takes one of the pillows and wedges it beneath his ass.

Stiles flushes. Now he really does feel like a slut, with his ass on display.Peter lays in between his legs and spreads his cheeks with both hands, confusing Stiles. What is he doing?

Then Peter is tonguing at his hole, and oh, that’s something they haven’t done yet. After a minute of amazing, wet pressure, he pauses.

“Do you like this darling?”

“Yeah, "Stiles gasps out. "Feels so good.”

Peter listens for a moment, but hears no lies. He continues, and Stiles gives a loud moan when Peter’s tongue goes inside. It goes deeper, and Stiles can only stay still beneath the onslaught for ten minutes before he’s squirming, wanting…

“More,” he begs. “Please Peter, give me more.”

Hungrily, desperately, he shakes his butt a little. His body is burning up, and he needs Peter’s cock in him like yesterday.

“Oh, little slut, you’ll get more. Just be patient a little longer.”

Then those calloused, long fingers Stiles is always staring at are slipping into his hole. It feels so good Stiles begins humping the air, little whines escaping his throat. The digits stroke at his walls, and when one bumps into his prostate Stiles groans, all of the air in his lungs escaping. It feels like he’s been fingered for _hours_ , even though it’s probably only been about fifteen minutes. Eventually, Peter pulls them out though, and Stiles lets out a disappointed moan.

“Hush, now. I’m giving you what you want.”

Peter slides in slowly, and Stiles reaches towards Peter.

“Hand. Gimme.”

Peter humors him with a soft, affectionate look, and Stiles clutches Peter’s hand to his chest.

He pulls out halfway, then slowly begins thrusting. All of Stiles’s earlier want begins returning, and before long every thrust is met with a soft moan. With his free hand Peter begins tweaking his nipple.

“ _Aaaahnn_!”

“That’s it, that’s my sweet boy. Tell me how much you love this.”

“It’s-ah, so good. Love it when you fi-ill my hole,” he moans, almost delirious with need.

Then Peter’s going faster, and all Stiles can do is hold on for the ride. He’s close now, and from the growls Peter is letting out, Stiles can tell he is too.

“My slut,“ hisses Peter, bright blue eyes meeting teary molten brown.

"Your slut,” Stiles repeats with a mewl. He’s _so_ close, he just needs…

Peter twists his nipple hard and gives a final, frantic thrust, making Stiles’s eyes roll back into his head.

“Peter,” Stiles screams, his dick spurting across his stomach.

Peter finishes with a roar, then sags on top of a panting Stiles.

“Happy birthday to me,” Stiles sings after he catches his breath, and grins when Peter chuckles.

“Happy birthday to you, my dear.”


End file.
